I first asked her to be my girlfriend because I didn’t have one and I thought it would be cool to have one before anybody else I knew did.

After two and a half years, I’ve fallen completely in love with her.

I used to imagine I’d be the sort of guy who’d have little flings everywhere and die an old lonely bachelor. Some of my friends have turned out like that.

Now I fantasize about having a home with her, raising our children together. I imagine the silly little things we’d do, and they make me laugh. How adorable our kids would be, and what fine young men and women we’d bring them up to be. What a wonderful wedding we’d have, and what a happy, loving marriage. We’d be an example to our parents and every sad cynic who doesn’t believe in love.

She completes me. When I’m with my friends or just walking alone, and I might not be having the best of days, I still always feel a little smug knowing I have her warm arms to go back to and her sweet smell to snuggle in, and everything would be alright.

I’ve always been terrible at sticking to things. I’ve always been super enthusiastic about things in superficial ways, and ended up leaving them halfway. Basketball, running, art, writing, whatever it is, I always get bored of it.

Yet I’ve never gotten bored of her. Every day that passes, I love her more. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say I’ve never committed to something as long as (and enjoyed as thoroughly) as our relationship.

I’ve done more for her than I’ve done for anybody else- everybody in my family and my oldest friends included. I’ve beared with all her little flaws and annoyances and grown to accept her and love her more and all the same. Sick as it sounds out of context, I’d sooner lose one of my parents than her- thoughts of a future with her push me through with motivation I’ve never found elsewhere.

As childishly emo as it sounds, I’m crying here typing this because I think she’s going to break up with me. In the past few months, I’ve lost my sense of direction- which was as weak as you could possibly imagine all along.

I’ve gone from being slightly confused to totally lost- I’ve grown to take her for granted, thinking she’ll always love me as much as I love her, that she’ll always wait for me if I find myself trying to focus on other things in my life instead.

Whatever that has to do with anything, I’ve ended up unforgivably neglecting the love of my life. And I can’t even say I’m sorry without sounding like a pretentious bastard. Her friends all hate me now but I couldn’t care less- the thought that she might not feel the hope and happiness thinking of me that I do thinking of her- kills me.

Baby I’ve always been really, really bad at focusing on things. Maybe I’m not good enough for you. But I love you so much.